


don't call me daddy

by SaintHeretical



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Canon Age Difference, Come Marking, Cum Play, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Foot Stuff (just a wee bit), Naked Female Clothed Male, Naked Male Clothed Female, Oral Sex, Pegging, Service Dom Ben Solo, Snowballing, Squirting, Tantric Sex, Unconventional Dom/Sub, Vaginal Sex, clit worship, mild exhibitionism, surprisingly soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/pseuds/SaintHeretical
Summary: “I want to...I want to dirty you up a bit first.” His voice deepens, gets rougher and husky, and makes her heart jolt in her chest. “I want to rub my dick all over you. Make you come so hard you squirt all over your thighs. Lick every square inch of your body. Paint you with my cum until you’re shiny with it.”“Oh.”“I want to know your body better than I know my own.” He clears his throat. “And then I want to clean you up, so no one else has a clue what a good, dirty girl you are.”Rey is tired of being in charge, and Ben thinks he's up for the challenge.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 131
Kudos: 707
Collections: F@$k Cancer in the Ass (For a Good Cause)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minstrels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minstrels/gifts).



> This fic is pretty much finished, so I'll be updating fairly frequently!
> 
> (Please note that at the beginning of their relationship, Ben is in grad school while Rey is an undergrad student, however they aren't in the same program.)

_ It’s going to look so good on her. Dusty pink satin, encasing delicate embroidery on featherlight mesh, sweetpeas and ivy designed to curl around rosebud nipples. She normally doesn’t like things so ‘girly’; she likes practical things, well made gifts that are elegant and timeless, but an occasion like tonight demands something frivolous, something dainty and pretty. And he’s learned, after all this time, that she likes being pretty. _

_ His hands are sweaty. It’s unlike him to be so nervous, but here he is, wiping his clammy hands on his silk suit pants like a teenager waiting for prom. He would ask when he got so soft, but honestly it’s an easy answer. The moment he met her, he was done for.  _

_ He hears the click of the door opening, followed by a few tentative footsteps. She’s nervous as well, but she shouldn’t be. As always, she’s the one in charge here, even though he’s picked out her clothes, picked out the wine, picked out...certain accessories for the evening. Even with his fingers in every aspect of her life, she still holds him in the palm of her hand, right where he belongs. _

_ She pokes her head into the bedroom, and her face splits into a smile. She loves it when he wears a suit, especially one that makes him look big and broad and strong enough to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her off to his cave. With a nod, he points her to the bathroom, where her outfit is waiting for her. Plus something else...but only if she wants it. _

_ Her eyes glint with hunger. Oh. _

_ She wants it. _

* * *

She first meets Ben at one of Poe’s parties. Probably the first of Poe’s parties she attends, fresh into her first year of college and completely enthralled with the idea of a house party in general, especially one thrown by a mature grad student off campus. She catches a ride with Rose and Finn and nurses an illegal beer for half the night until someone convinces her to try the jello shots and then the punch and then suddenly she finds herself sharing a bag of microwaved popcorn with a nice girl named Jannah, squished on a stained microsuede couch in the basement while Poe and his friends play ping-pong.

It’s nice, even though she’s not sure where the time went, or what time it is exactly, only that she’s warm and fed and life is pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, a sharp contrast to the start-of-year anxiety she was feeling earlier. Jannah keeps on saving the butteriest kernels for her, and Rose has cuddled up next to them, shouting encouragement at Finn whenever it’s his turn at the table.

People start trickling out as the evening progresses, until there’s just the couch people and the ping-pong people, plus Poe’s roommate Hux who is already passed out in the corner on a leather beanbag. Poe manages to win his game with an exceptionally fancy trick shot, prompting his combatant, a very tall, wide, and grumpy guy with wavy black hair, to let out a grunt of frustration and chuck the ping-pong paddle at his head.

“Jesus, Solo, it’s only a game,” Poe laughs, then walks over and good naturedly punches the other man in the bicep.

“You’re a fucking cheat Dameron, and you know it,” the man,  _ Solo _ , grumbles. 

Looking back, this moment should hold more gravity for Rey. After all, this snarling, sweating, bear of a grad student becomes such a pivotal part of her life, it’s surprising that a chorus of angels didn’t crack through Poe’s ceiling and sing the hallelujah chorus the moment she locked eyes with him. But no, instead she grabs another handful of popcorn and snips, “God, who crawled up  _ his _ butt and died?”

Solo whirls on her, and glares. “Big words from someone whose ass has been glued to the couch all night.”

“Oh boo hoo, someone’s a sore loser.” Rey feels all of the wisdom of her eighteen and a half years when she raises her eyebrow and sticks out her popcorn coated tongue at him.

Solo’s nose wrinkles. “Disgusting.”

“Hey, be nice,” Jannah warns, then turns to Rey. “This is Ben, the TA for my third year philosophy course. Ben, meet Rey. She’s new.”

Ben gives her a long look, taking in her second best leggings and oversized tee she got for free by sending in five Mini Wheats box tops. His dark eyes scan her dirty sneakers, her slightly greasy hair that’s fallen out of its buns and, finally, her freckled face and dollar store eyeliner. “I could tell.”

“At least I’m not ancient like you,” Rey bites back. “What are you, thirty?”

He  _ flinches _ . “None of your fucking business.”

“Hmm, sounds like I hit a nerve.”

Poe, sensing a disturbance in his carefully cultivated ‘good vibes’ for the night, bounds over and claps Ben on the shoulder. “Hey, hey! No murdering undergrads, man, we talked about this!” He turns to Rey and gives her a winning smile. “Ben’s back in grad school after a false start with a bad supervisor a few years back, but he’s not  _ old _ by any stretch of the imagination. Why, he’s actually a few years younger than me!”

“But you’re definitely over thirty,” Finn comments from the end of the couch. “Didn’t you say you were born in the eighties?”

“ _ Anyways _ .” Poe drags over a free beanbag and plops down onto it, then gestures to Ben to do the same. To his credit, he doesn’t outright walk away, instead choosing to squat down next to the couch with a sullen expression on his face. “So...what is it that undergrads talk about these days? Movies? Drugs? Sex?”

“All of the above, and more,” Jannah teases. “But mostly sex, since I believe the four of us are all in dorms and,  _ fuck _ , does that complicate things!”

“Do tell!” Poe grabs a crocheted throw pillow from the couch and hugs it to his chest. “Ah, dorm life. I kinda miss it, to be honest.”

“Why?” Finn looks disgusted. “It’s literally the worst. I have a shared room and my roommate literally has his girlfriend over every night and has sex with her under the sheets, and I have to just– I don’t know, ignore it? Even though she calls him Daddy and he spanks her really loudly?”

A chorus of pained groans echo through the basement. Poe waggles his eyebrows. “So what you're saying is that you’re not into Daddy kink?”

Finn shrugs. “I didn’t say that. Just not into it when it’s my roommate at four in the fucking morning. Why, are  _ you _ into it?”

Everyone’s eyes flick back to Poe, who hugs the cushion tighter and grins. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I’m into pretty much anything with anyone, though I’m admittedly a bit less...proactive than a Daddy would be. I would much rather not be in charge.”

“See, I’m the exact opposite.” Finn grabs a half melted jello shot from the coffee table and slings it back. “I love being in charge. Love it. God, during my first year, I went absolutely  _ wild _ with this homeschooled girl–”

“That’s nice,” Jannah interrupts. “But terribly typical, don’t you think? Why does it always have to be the guy in charge while the girl is reduced to being a thing?”

“Well, excuse me, Ms. Women’s Studies,” he chuckles. “So you’re saying  _ you’re _ more of a domme then, is that is?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and for your information I’m not actually sure what I prefer. It depends on my partner though I have been known to take charge every so often.”

Grinning, Finn turns to Rose. “And what about you?”

“Oh, I like being in charge. Totally. I mean, I guess it depends on the day but for the most part, uh, yeah. In charge kinda gal.”

“Hmm!” He shrugs, and looks across Jannah at Rey, who hopes desperately that the couch will swallow her up whole. “How about you, new girl?”

“I–”

“Just leave her alone,” barks Ben, who has remained completely silent through this whole conversation. “She probably just moved out like three weeks ago and you’re already interrogating her about her sex life.”

Rey stares at him, all moody and hunched over on the carpet. He refuses to look at her, training his focus back on his black-socked feet. “I-it’s fine,” she starts. “I don’t mind. Honestly, I haven’t given it a ton of thought, but I think I like the idea of someone else being in control. I...I’ve had to take care of myself for a really long time, so it would be nice for someone else to take charge for a change.”

Poe nods, obviously impressed. “So a fellow sub then? Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” she clarifies. “I still want to be an active participant, you know? Not just a hole, or a body, or a piece of meat to be slapped around.”

“It’s not always like that,” Rose pipes up. “I’m sure that’s what it may appear like for outsiders, but it’s a very egalitarian power exchange, most times.”

“And that’s fine then, for people who like that. But for me, I want to be treated like a person, respectfully and without humiliation. No official titles or whatever, and I don’t want a guy to shove his dick down my throat.” She manages to get all of that out without stammering or blushing, then resolutely grabs the popcorn bag and busies herself with prying open the half-popped kernels with her teeth.

Poe nods. “And what about you, Ben?”

“Fuck off.”

“Come on,” he whines. “I know you don’t fuck around much, now that you’re all studious and whatever, but you’ve got to have at least some preference.”

“Fine. I like…” Ben frowns. “...I like making my partner feel good. And taking charge a bit. I guess.”

“You guess? You’re  _ such _ a dom, I mean look at you!” Poe slaps his arm again, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Sure. Whatever.”

Then he looks up, and his eyes lock on Rey’s and soften for some weird reason, and all of a sudden she feels  _ seen _ . Whatever that means, whether it’s the booze or the basement air, or too much popcorn, she feels like he’s peeling back her skin with his mocha gaze and staring right into her soul. As if, just with a look, he knows exactly what she needs. 

Poe offers to let everyone sleep it off for the night and even provides several armfuls of moth eaten blankets as a bribe. Everyone is thrilled by the proposal except Ben, who Poe weedles into staying by pointing out he’s at least 7 drinks in and barely had anything to eat.

“I know you’re a big dude, but it’s late and you’re tired,” Poe reasons, then shoves a blanket at him. “Now grab some floor and curl up. Unless you’re so old that your back will go out.”

“I’m not old,” Ben sighs, yanking the blanket out of his hands.

Rey grabs a sleeping bag and huddles up against the wall, right next to an old wood burning fireplace that definitely hasn’t been used since the last millennium. The basement is fairly small and space is at a premium, especially since the upper story is already occupied by all of Poe’s housemates and their guests. She curls up into herself just like she used to when she was younger, and wills herself to sleep, even though her heart is pounding from nerves and sugar and popcorn. 

Then she feels something warm behind her, and she jumps.

“It’s just me,” rumbles a deep voice,  _ Ben’s _ voice. “There’s no other space except in the bathtub.”

“Sure. Whatever,” she parrots back and worms herself even closer to the wall, despite the fact that he’s not actually touching her.

“I can move if you–”

“No it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

She hears him sigh, rather obnoxiously in her opinion, then there’s a rustle and heavy thud of a body settling down to sleep. Somebody dims the lights until all she can see is the steady flash of red from the ceiling smoke detector reflected against the wall paneling.

“Hey.”

She startles at the sound of Ben’s voice again, so soft she can barely make it out over the quiet murmuring around them. “What.”

“I’m sorry...for earlier. For being a dick to you.”

“Oh. Well, I was a dick to you first though.”

“But I didn’t have to be a dick back, and I was. So, sorry.”

He sounds sincere, if a tad frustrated by her response, so she relents. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Another moment passes. He’s quiet, too quiet, barely even breathing by the sound of it and, for a minute, Rey is taken back to the special brand of awkwardness she used to experience when she slept in shelters as a young teen. That strange tension of ignoring someone in such close physical proximity, of asserting your own space when there’s not a lot to go around. “What did Poe mean?” she wonders aloud. “When he said you had a bad start?”

Something brushes up against her shoulder, and then Ben’s voice is close, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “I started off as an Econ grad student. My supervisor at the time was getting me to manage some of his private clients’ stock portfolios under the guise of theoretical work. Turns out many of them were heavy into insider trading...when they got busted, my supervisor was implicated, and I had to testify against him to avoid jail time.”

Rey sucks back a gasp. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So as a side effect I’m banned from the Econ department, but my undergrad was in poli sci so I guess it’s worth a shot trying to make a life out of that. Maybe I could...I don’t know...teach or something.”

Despite her best efforts, a snort escapes from her nose. “You?”

“You don’t think?” He doesn’t sound hurt; if anything his voice is tinged with amusement. 

“ _ No _ . You’re so...so…” The words aren’t coming to her, to encompass just how not professor-ish he is. Maybe it’s his physicality, how his shirt strains over his broad chest or how he appears to loom over a room even when he’s seated. It would be too distracting,  _ no _ , too intimidating in a classroom setting. And he’s rude, exceptionally so, which some students find interesting but most are off put by it. He probably wouldn’t last a semester before bad student ratings would send him back to his office to eake out publications. 

“So...what?” he prods. 

“You’re not the most personable of people,” she hisses back. “You’ve got a definite air of grumpiness, and you seem like you’d rather die than help a person who needs it.”

He lets out a low, smoky chuckle. “You heard my answer to Poe’s question earlier. I love helping someone who needs it.”

“See, it’s that kind of attitude that would definitely get you fired after like a day.”

There’s silence, and then: “Sorry for that. It was inappropriate.”

“I was just kidding. I’m not your student; I don’t care.”

“But I just met you and I shouldn’t be–” He sighs. “Anyways, goodnight.”

“Wait.” Rey licks her lips, suddenly cracked and dry in the chilly basement air. “What did you mean by that? When you said you liked to make your partner feel good?”

He doesn’t respond, instead shifting enough that his back is facing her. Frustrated, she lets out a tiny squeak of indignation and rolls around so she’s facing his broad back, which she pokes with her index finger. It’s surprisingly muscular for a guy who just pounded an entire six-pack while barely catching a breath in between each can. “Hey. Answer the question.”

“I’m trying to sleep,” is his muffled reply.

“Just answer my question before you sleep. What did you mean when you said that?”

He sighs, then rolls himself around until he’s facing her. His breath is warm and slightly hoppy against her cheeks. “I meant that I like planning, in intricate detail, the ways I want to pleasure my partner.” 

Rey stares back at him, deadpan. “So, do you pull up a spreadsheet or something?”

Ben blinks.

“Pull out the old legal pad? Make a PowerPoint with hand drawn diagrams?”

“Listen, if you’re going to be a child about it–”

“I’m not a fucking child,” she hisses back. “And I bet I’ve been through shit you couldn’t even imagine.”

“Ha!” he manages to choke out, almost soundlessly. “As if.”

“I’ve been legally on my own since I was fifteen, but without parents since I was six. Three of my foster parents abused me. I’ve lived in over twenty homes over nineteen years, and up until recently I had no idea how I was going to survive as an adult. Thank god for scholarships.” It hurts to whisper those words to a relative stranger, but it also feels weirdly good? She hasn’t told any of her university friends yet, and having it out there, hanging in the space between her face and Ben’s, makes her feel less like she has a dirty secret.

“That’s–” His face twists as he struggles to find the right words. “–that fucking sucks. I-I’m sorry...again.”

“You know for a dom, you sure do apologize a lot.”

He laughs at that, silent chuckles that make his chest shake and his mouth split into a wide, toothy smile. “Dom isn’t a synonym for asshole.”

“No, I know. You just like being in charge.”

“And you don’t.”

It’s not a question. Abruptly, the air between them shifts, grows hotter and thicker with anticipation. “No, I guess I don’t,” she confesses. “I guess...after having to take care of myself for so long, it seems like it would be nice to have someone else take care of me for a change.”

“I–” He pauses to bite his lip, then takes in a breath and restarts. “Have you ever had that in your life? Someone who took care of you in that way?”

“No.” Just admitting that feels like opening the door to something more. “No, I haven’t. But...I imagine it might be nice.”

“Would you...I mean–” 

“Hm?” She loves the slight quaver in his deep voice. 

He clears his throat, just a tiny cough in the silent darkness. “Would you like to have something like that in your life? Someone?”

“Are you suggesting yourself?” she teases. “Because I can’t say you come highly recommended.”

A breathy wheeze is her only hint that he’s chuckling to himself. “True.”

“But I would....I think. Like to try.”

“We could get to know each other first,” he insists. “I want to take you out for coffee, or something. I would prefer it actually, that way.”

“Oh, of course.”

“But I have to warn you, I’m a bit–” His voice catches in his throat. “–I’ve been told I can be intense.”

She waits for the twist in her gut, that ingrained instinctual urge she has to run in the face of danger, but when she looks at Ben, all she feels is  _ intrigued _ . Like she’s facing a lion head on, but without any fear of danger or dismemberment. “I can handle intense,” she says. Leaning forward, she brushes the tip of her nose against his, and he  _ shudders _ . “Count me in.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ The lingerie fits perfectly, because why wouldn’t it? _

_ He knows her inside and out, has charted her mind and her body so thoroughly that she’s never felt so safe and held by another person. She smiles at the slide of satin ribbon against her lotioned skin, letting out a soft whimper as the embroidered mesh rubs against her nipples, already hard in the cool air.  _

_ She likes to feel pretty. Finally, she can admit that to herself, after years of hiding behind second hand boy’s’ jeans and baggy sweaters, pushing down every scrap of her femininity under a thick coating of anger and a scrappy attitude. Finally she can embrace the power of being delicate and soft, of flowers blooming against smooth curves and blushing skin. _

_ Because that’s how she feels. Powerful, even when his hands pin her to the bed, when his nose bumps her clit and he’s got three fingers in her ass. She’s got the power to make it all stop, if she wants. _

_ But more importantly, she has the power to make him keep going. _

_ Her fingers brush against the petal pink leather resting on the bathroom counter. After everything he’s done for her, how he’s built her up and made her whole again, she finally has a way to make it up to him. _

_ And she can’t fucking wait. _

* * *

For their first official date, they do just go out for coffee. He asks her all about her likes: her taste in music, clothing, food, movies, as well as about her degree and plans for her future. In turn, Rey asks him about his own life, and he’s not quite as forthcoming as her. He comes from money and political legacy, but is trying to become at least a bit self-made while still skimming off his trust fund from time to time. He’s not  _ quite _ thirty yet, only twenty nine, but he doesn’t make a big deal about their ten year age gap, so she decides not to either.

The coffee is delicious, and the shop is nice and homey. It smells of fresh cinnamon buns and milky lattes, and is stocked with board games in case the conversation lulls. Rey has no need for distractions; she finds all the amusement she needs in watching his face light up when he describes his grad program, and finds herself lost in his eyes as he watches her gush about her favourite sub sandwich. 

Ben ends the date by walking her to the campus library and giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Let me know when you’re free,” he instructs. “And I’ll pick something for us to do...if that's okay with you.”

She’s got three assignments due this week, and her brain feels so overloaded that she’s on the cusp of forgetting her own name. “I trust your sense of judgement.”

He smiles. “Awesome.”

Three days later, she’s halfway through assignment two when he texts her:

_ Doing okay? Haven’t heard a time yet. _

“Shit,” she mutters. 

_ yeah sorry, jsut bogged down with school _ _  
_ _ really need a break tho  
_ _ among other things ugh _

_ Does Friday at 7 work? _

Quickly, she checks her calendar app and sighs with relief.

_ yes _

_ Excellent. I’ll pick you up then. _ _  
_ _ You said you needed other things? _

She groans, embarrassed.

_ it’s nothing. just some clothes and stuff  
_ _ My current wardrobe is...tragic  
_ _ im sure you’ve noticed. _

She waits for a few minutes, but there’s no response. God, her life problems are so banal, she’s even bored the guy she’s not-dating. Pocketing her phone, she digs back into her assignment, typing away until the little Gmail icon at the top right of her browser pings with an unread email.  _ I deserve a break, even if it is to read some spam, _ she reasons, opening her inbox.

She frowns. It’s from Madewell, but she doesn’t ever remember signing up for their newsletter. Sure, she’s lusted after most of the pieces on their site (she has a weakness for natural fibres and ethically made goods) but that shouldn’t be translating into actual emails in her actual inbox, unless Google really isn’t hiding how much they’re watching her anymore.

But the subject line says something about a gift, so she clicks on it, and–

_ Oh fuck. _

It’s a gift card. For $1000.

‘ _ For whenever you find time to take a break. -B’  _ the message reads, and all of a sudden Rey can’t breathe. She wants to text him back, but she’s not sure what to say. Is he...is he her sugar daddy now? Is she a sugar baby? This was not the way she was planning on financing herself through university, and definitely not what she was expecting when she gave Ben her number. To be honest, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, other than maybe some awkward, unfufilling sex and equally abrasive conversation, but instead he seems kind and attentive and sweet and also fucking  _ loaded _ . 

She waits until Friday to confront him about it, giving her enough time to prepare her words and also finish her remaining schoolwork. He picks her up in a car that’s obviously new and well taken care of, and takes them to a Lebanese restaurant that’s neither too fancy nor too casual, and it’s all so perfect that she almost doesn’t say anything. However, halfway through a conversation about animal shelters and a few bites into her falafal, Rey finally blurts out, “So what is this? Between us, that is? Is this a relationship or is it an arrangement?”

To his credit, Ben doesn’t even flinch. “That’s up to you,” he says smoothly. “I was hoping it could be a relationship, however if you wish for something more formal, I completely understand.”

“But that’s the thing: I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. I don’t– I don’t think we’re going to be doing things that require me to sign some sort of waiver, but at the same time, if there’s going to be a lot of money involved–”

“That was a gift,” he says. He’s smiling softly, but his voice is firm. “Like a bouquet of roses after a nice date, only far more practical.”

“And  _ expensive _ .”

“I–” He shuts his mouth, nods once, then starts again. “We’re not going to make a big deal about money, okay? I want to take care of you, as long as you’ll let me.”

“And what do  _ I _ have to do?”

“Nothing. Anything. This?” he offers, gesturing to their spread of food on the table. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But we’re going to have sex, right?” Rey counters. 

“If you want to.”

She laughs. “I do. But I don’t have sex under conditions.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

She thinks back to that night a few weeks ago, back in Poe’s basement. “And I need to know what you’re into, if you’re going to be planning what we– we  _ do _ .”

“How so?”

“Like, if you’re into weird stuff, I want to know.”

“Ah.” At this, he grabs his glass of water and takes a sip. “If we were both wanting something more formal, this would be the time where I would pull out a document full of kinks and ask you about your hard and soft limits.”

She tilts her head to the side, curious. “Is that how you normally go about this?”

He coughs. “I’ve never really...gone about this. That’s just what I read online. I’m not...not super experienced with this. Like, I’m not a virgin,” he clarifies. “But I’ve never really taken care of anyone like this before, to this extent.”

“Oh.” 

“I hope that’s not a problem,” he blurts out.

She toys with a small piece of lettuce on her plate, dipping it into the fluffy, garlicky toum before popping it into her mouth. “As long as it’s not a problem that I’m inexperienced as well.”

“Of course not.”

“Then I don’t see an issue with it.” She takes another bite of lettuce, then gulps in a deep breath and asks, “So, am I supposed to call you Daddy now?”

He sputters into his comically small bottle of Yakult. “W-what? I...I mean, I didn’t really think of that. Do you...want to?”

She sighs with relief. “No. As you could probably imagine, that word doesn’t stir up a lot of positive feelings for me, and I’m not keen on attempting to reclaim it or whatever.”

“Well, then you can call me whatever you’d like. Within reason, of course. And if you can’t come up with anything, I can think of something.”

Digging into her tabbouleh, she muses on the proper title. ‘Master’ seems too over the top for what she’s wanting, while other more conventional terms of endearment seem too tame. “Honestly, this is probably kind of silly, but I’ve always had a hard time with calling men ‘sir’,” she admits. “There’s something about that implied subservience, even if it’s said just to be polite, that I find really unnerving.”

His eyes glint, intrigued. “Yeah?”

“But in this case...since it’s about me being able to let go of that need to be in control, I think...I think it would be the best. To call you that.”

“I like it.” He clears his throat, then takes another sip of his drink. “I like it a lot. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He orders her a small plate of baklava without being prompted, then quietly asks, “So what would you like me to do for you, specifically?”

Rey blinks. “Like in sex?”

“That too. But really any way I could make your life easier, to take some of the load off.”

“That’s really broad.”

“Sexually then.” Ben cracks a small smile. “Any requests?”

“Hmmm. I– I haven’t had the best of sex in the past.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So I...really anything where I get to come without it being my responsibility is great. And sex that doesn’t hurt me is great as well. Also, I don’t like it when a dick is shoved down my throat because I have a really sensitive gag reflex and I–” She freezes at the look on his face. “Is...did I say something wrong?”

“That is...you...what you’re asking is–” He shakes his head, attempting to put his thoughts in order. “What you’re asking for is the absolute  _ bare minimum _ .”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. But I guess it might be nice to have that first, before we move on to other things...if that’s okay?”

“More than okay.”

“What did you have in mind though?” she wonders. “Once we feel like...venturing on?”

“I’m interested in whatever you’re interested in. Personally I’m not much for scat play or degradation, but if you want to try it, I’m willing to try it as well.”

She recoils. “I do  _ not _ want you to shit on me!”

“Noted. The feeling is mutual.” He flushes. “I’ve never really tried assplay before, but I’m really interested if you’re willing. We can build up to it. Also I like the idea of–” He bites his lip, and Rey steels herself for something  _ really _ wild. “–drawing you a really nice bubble bath after sex and just...cleaning you up. Pampering you.”

“T-that’s it?” Rey stammers, then immediately feels terrible. “Not that that’s not valid or anything.”

“That’s not just it,” he clarifies. “I want to...I want to dirty you up a bit first.” His voice deepens, gets rougher and husky, and makes her heart jolt in her chest. “I want to rub my dick all over you. Make you come so hard you squirt all over your thighs. Lick every square inch of your body. Paint you with my cum until you’re shiny with it.”

“ _ Oh. _ ”

“I want to know your body better than I know my own.” He clears his throat. “And  _ then _ I want to clean you up, so no one else has a clue what a good, dirty girl you are.”

Fuck, she’s wet. She’s wet in a booth of a restaurant at 8PM on a Friday night, and all she can say is:

“When do we start?" 

* * *

The first time is relatively tame and perfect and seriously by far the best sex she’s ever had. He takes her out for sushi with lemon gelato afterwards, then brings her back to his place, where he makes her a glass of green tea and massages her feet with jasmine scented lotion. Once she’s warm and pliant, he carries her to his bedroom like a bride, deposits her on his duvet, and proceeds to eat her out until she’s shuddering under his perfect mouth.

It’s a pretty great orgasm, all things considered. Exemplary in fact, purely based on the fact that he needed very little instruction to accomplish it and didn’t require her assistance. Already this encounter fits in her top five sexual experiences, which is why she’s so confused when he flashes her a toothy grin and then keeps licking her like nothing’s happened.

“B-ben,” she gasps, still shaking from climax. “Ben, I just came.”

He stares up at her, dark eyes sparkling between her thighs. “Yes?” he murmurs, then drags the tip of his tongue up her inner labia. 

“ _ Please _ , I’m too sensitive.”

“What’s the magic word?” he reminds her, dropping a kiss to her swollen clit.

It’s ‘ _ titrate’ _ , as they discussed earlier, but she can’t bring herself to say it as he’s smirking up with her clit between his lips. “It’s too much though...I c-can’t...I  _ can’t _ .”

Propping himself up on one elbow, he licks his thumb, and uses it to press slow, lazy strokes against the lips of her cunt as he wonders, “Can you not, physically? Really? Or are you not letting yourself?”

“I– _ hngh _ –I can’t”

“Hmmm.” His touch lightens, just enough for the pleasure to trickle in shivery tendrils down her spine. “I don’t know Rey. I think you can do better than that.”

“But  _ Ben _ –”

“Anyone can come once.” His thumb dips into her dripping core for just a second, swirling to collect moisture as she writhes underneath him, then slowly trails back up to her clit. “But you can do better. You’re such a good girl...you can do it.”

And despite all her protests, despite being able to feel every ridge of his fingertip on her oversensitive cunt, the beginning of another orgasm burns between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers. “Your mouth–”

“Hm?”

“Your mouth...I need it–” Her leg twitches, his calloused fingers brushing up against a particularly sensitive spot. “I need your mouth on my pussy,  _ please _ .”

His finger pauses, and he looks at her expectantly. “Yes?

“Please, please  _ sir.” _

Then all she can feel is warmth and wet and just the perfect amount of suction, and pleasure floods her overstimulated body as she practically screams underneath him. His mouth lingers on her just long enough to let her cool off, and then all of a sudden he’s on top of her, shoving down his pants and tearing into a condom wrapper with his teeth.

“I’m gonna– I have to be inside you, or else I’m going to come in my pants.” 

“O-okay,” she breathes, her hands flying to his waist.

She tries not to stare at the flex of his shoulders as he wiggles the condom onto his dick one-handed. Nudging his nose against hers, he brushes a gentle kiss on her lips. “Is this okay?”

She nods, and then he shifts, dipping his hips just so until the thick, warm head of him is sliding into her without any resistance and all she can think is  _ “yes” _ . This is what it’s supposed to feel like, no pain or pinching or tearing, just his cock, thick and hot, parting her folds with a deep, satisfying stretch. 

He bottoms out in the first stroke, guided by her throaty moans and swollen, wet cunt. “Fuck,” he pants into her shoulder. “You’re so fucking soft and perfect. I can’t– I won’t last.”

“Then don’t,” she murmurs, drunk on the smell of his skin and the weight of his cock inside of her. “This is just the beginning.”

He comes after five toe-curlingly deep thrusts, rubbing his nose into her hair as he shudders above her. His voice catches in his throat, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and before she knows it he’s pulled out of her and replaced his dick with two thick fingers. It felt nice before, with his cock inside of her, but with his fingers he’s able to be more precise, seeking out that swollen, ridged part inside of her and teasing it with gentle, yet firm, strokes. 

Rey panics as she feels a strange, pleasurable sensation bubble up inside of her. “Ben n-no, don’t do that, I’m gonna pee,” she chokes out.

“That’s fine.” He gives her a lazy grin. “I don’t mind.”

She knows she can make him stop. Just one word, and he’ll pull his fingers out of her and scoop her up in his soft, fluffy duvet, but he seems to be having such a good time teasing her, and it  _ does _ feel really good, and at that moment everything clicks into place. All the time she’s spent policing herself, saving her time, energy, pleasure for a future where she doesn’t have to worry about where she’ll find food or sleep for the night. Right here, right now– this is that future.

When she comes, it feels less like flying and more like letting go, so much so that she feels a wet gush from her pussy all over Ben’s hand. “S-shit,” she pants. “I’m s-sorry I–”

He swallows the rest of her apology with a soft, sloppy kiss. “I loved it,” he breathes. “So hot, oh my God. I’ve always wanted to–”

Wet, slippery fingers slide against her cheek as he angles her face against his and deepens the kiss. The warm glide of a tongue in her mouth isn’t something she’s ever enjoyed that much, at least not before  _ him _ and the way he explores every inch of her with unfettered fascination. Objectively, she knows she should be grossed out by how he’s smearing her pussy juice all over her skin, but she’s too lost in the way he’s gripping her like a lifeline.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against her skin. “So perfect and beautiful.”

* * *

After that, things are easier between them. 

She’s over at his place at least two or three times a week, often spending the night over the weekend until she has to drag herself back to her dorm to finish assignments. That’s one of their boundaries: this  _ thing _ between them can’t get in the way of either of their degrees, and Rey’s sure as hell not going to jeopardize her GPA with a scholarship on the line, even if Ben has coyly suggested he could pay her tuition. The engineering program is expensive, and she’s not willing to potentially drain his trust fund, no matter how bottomless he seems to think it is.

Still, it’s nice to get out of her dorm on a regular basis. Along with her Friday night study sessions with Finn and the gang, she only really gets out to go jogging occasionally, and attend her classes of course. She’s used to living sparsely, not giving herself a lot of time for frivolous activities. It’s a habit from before, back when she had to hoard her time along with her money, and one of the first things Ben teaches her is how to let go.

He’s a voracious student of pleasure, and she’s his willing masterpiece, content to sprawl underneath him as he maps every square inch of her body. He makes good on his previous promises, taking the time to drag his tongue  _ everywhere _ , tasting skin that’s barely been touched before. All of a sudden, her entire body is an erogenous zone: the shell of her ear, the bony nub of her tailbone, even the damp cave of her underarms fresh from the shower.

“Isn’t that gross?” she mumbles into her pillow, as his tongue licks a hot stripe from the side of her breast to her armpit. 

“No part of you is gross.” He nips at the slight stubble there, then soothes it with his lips. “Does it feel gross?”

“It feels...tickly,” she whimpers, and that’s mostly true. At least, it started off feeling tickly, but now it feels more like a full bodied shiver, so intense and visceral that she’s been trying to hold it in for fear that he’ll think she’s having some sort of seizure.

She tries to wiggle away, only to be held down by a very firm hand on her hip, pressing her gently into the bed. “Did I say you could move?”

“B-but it  _ tickles. _ ”

“Then relax. Allow yourself to feel it.”

“I  _ am _ feeling it. And it tickles.”

“Rey.” He holds her down a bit harder, just enough that she feels genuinely immobilized. Her breath catches. “You know how to stop this.”

“I know,” she whines (and god, when did she start whining like this? She’s  _ never _ whined in her life). “I just want it to stop.”

“Then stop me.”

She huffs into the blankets then stills, taking deep breaths in and out until her limbs go lax beneath him. “Good girl,” he murmurs. His hand traces the jut of her hip bone, his fingers trailing lazily at her waist, belly, the slight ridge of her ribcage before travelling up to the soft side of her breast, still damp from his tongue. With the lightest of touches, he runs his fingers against her sides and a bone-chilling jolt of  _ something _ runs through her body, causing her to writhe like she’s been electrocuted. “Good girl,” he repeats, drawing his fingers back to stroke her again. “Just let go.”

Slowly, her world closes up around her like a drawstring bag tugged shut. Gone are her worries: about school, friends, the dubious question mark that represents her future. All that matters now is the teasing drag of Ben’s fingertips against her skin as he plays her like an instrument, coaxing melodies of pleasure from the most innocuous of places. 

Like, she knew she had a sensitive neck, but this time all she needs is the barest brush of his lips and she feels like she’s coming, like her  _ neck _ is coming, and it’s both the weirdest and most intense feeling she’s ever had. Same with the soles of her feet which, like her armpits, are normally gross tickly places she hides from her partner, but when Ben runs his tongue against them and darts to lick between her toes, all she can feel is twitchy, spine tingling euphoria.

And then there’s her butt. He hasn’t been shy about vocalizing how much he’s into her butt, so when he eases her onto her tummy and starts venturing his tongue along her lower back, she should be expecting his next obvious destination. Still, she can’t help but squeak with protest when he gently pries her asscheeks apart and brushes his tongue  _ right there _ .

“Oh!” 

A dark, sultry laugh oozes out from behind her. “Too much?” he asks, and  _ fuck _ she can feel his breath on her asshole. “And before you say anything, remember: nothing is gross. No part of you is gross.”

“But it’s my–”

“I know what it is.” He punctuates his words with little flicks of his tongue against the puckered rim. “I know what it does. And it’s all mine.”

Minutes go by, or hours; she’s not sure at this point. He moves on from her ass to her thighs, and from her thighs to the sensitive backs of her knees. Eventually, all she is is a whimpering shuddering mess on the bed, groaning at even the lightest of his touches. She feels like she’s shed her skin somehow, and is just a mass of exposed nerves, and  _ fuck _ she’s so exhausted. There’s a brush of lips at her temple, and then gently, ever so gently, Ben rests a warm hand on her shoulder. “Do you need to come?” he asks.

She shakes her head. Her pussy seems irrelevant at this point, which is something she’s never felt before. “I feel like I’ve come a thousand times already,” she croaks, and he chuckles.

“I’m so happy. Would you like a bath?”

She shakes her head again. “Just cuddles please, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Pulling off his shirt, he slides up behind her and pulls her into his warm chest. “You did so well tonight.”

“What about you?” she wonders. After all, she can feel him pressing into the small of her back, thick and insistent. “Do you need me to–?”

“Not tonight.”

“But–”

“Not tonight Rey.” If she didn’t know him any better, she would think he was angry with her. “You don’t need to worry about me. This is all about you.”

“Okay.” It makes her feel awkward, leaving him so unfulfilled after what felt like hours of pleasure for her benefit, but one of the things he told her in the beginning was that he would never lie to her. Never. So instead of worrying that he’ll resent her, or sneak off and find someone else to take care of him, she nuzzles deeper into his bed, content to take him at his word and melt into his arms for the night

* * *

“So what does  _ he _ get out of this?”

Rey shrugs and takes a sip of her bubble tea as the rest of her friends look at her with various stages of confusion written on their faces. At least the boba shop is busy enough that they can’t fully interrogate her and have to make do with hissing their questions under their breath.

“I haven’t asked,” she admits, while chewing on pudding and tapioca. “But he gets something out of it, or else he would have dumped me a while ago."

Rose, calmly nursing a jasmine green tea with grass jelly, rolls her eyes. “You guys are so basic,” she groans. “He obviously likes making her feel good.”

“But that’s not something for him,” Finn counters. 

“Isn’t it?” She gestures towards Rey, who is nonchalantly drinking her tea while trying to look as uninterested as possible. “He very obviously cares about her and, according to Poe, he’s the type of person who doesn’t half ass stuff.”

“But don’t most sugar daddies–”

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Rey blurts out. “Like, he buys me things and takes me out on dates, but he’s not my sugar daddy. Not at all.”

Jannah leans forward, her drink long forgotten. “So is he your boyfriend then?”

“Also how is he  _ not _ your sugar daddy?” Finn interjects. “Sorry Jan– but doesn’t he pay for all your clothes and your rent and stuff?”

“He’s not my sugar daddy because this is a relationship, not an arrangement. I don’t call him Daddy, I call him Ben.”

“So, he  _ is _ your boyfriend?” Jannah smiles, revealing her beautiful gap-toothed grin. “Your exceptionally invested and loaded boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t call him that either.” Rey pushes her drink away and turns to the basket of spicy fried squid instead. “He’s more like...my partner?” She cringes, and she’s sure everyone else at the table cringes as well.  _ Partner _ sounds so...mature, so egalitarian and polite and far too sterile to encompass what Ben means to her, but really there’s no other word for it. 

“So do you call him that?” Rose raises an eyebrow. “Like he’s a sheriff and you’re his deputy?”

“No, he’s just Ben. I call him Ben.”

Still, it sticks with her all day, the strange lopsidedness of their arrangement. He gives her  _ so much _ , sexually, financially, with his time and his body, and she gives him...something. Companionship, perhaps. Some sexual relief, definitely. Rose is probably onto something with the pleasure he gets from giving pleasure, but that doesn’t seem like reason enough to focus so much attention on one person. It’s not something she feels comfortable bringing up while he’s eating her out or buying her her favourite burger so, like many things, she stashes it away for another time, and focuses instead on just  _ how  _ amazing he makes her feel.

And for the meantime, that’s enough.   
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

_The harness is heavy in her hands, such a contrast with the ethereal fabrics of her outfit. She knows it will fit perfectly as well, just like the underwear, because there’s no doubt in her mind that he spent an extra long time picking it out._

_This...this...act, this scene, whatever it’s supposed to be called, means so much to him. And in turn, it means so much to her, because_ he _means so much to her. She gets it now, the heady pleasure that can only be derived from pleasing your partner so fully, until they’re nearly delirious above you. He’s wanted this for so long...and so has she._

* * *

She meets his parents under the most elaborate of circumstances. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s a fundraiser...thing,” he mumbles, busying himself with making her a latte on his ridiculously fancy espresso machine.

Rey runs her index finger over the gold-embossed linen cardstock stuck up on his fridge with a plain black magnet. “For Akbar, Organa, Calrissian & Associates? Don’t they specialize in all those high profile human rights cases?”

“I guess so.” With a shrug, he pulls open the fridge door to grab some milk. Whole, of course, because she likes her lattes super rich and creamy, and he’s more than happy to oblige her. “I’m not much for the news.”

She rolls her eyes because he’s _totally_ one for the news. Almost every app on his phone is news related, aside from SimCity, which he keeps for stress relieving purposes. “So, are you going to it? The fundraiser?”

Wrinkling his nose, he fills up the little metal pitcher with milk and places it under the frother. “Nope,” he answers, then turns on the machine, effectively drowning out any other questions.

She frowns. This is new. In the three months since they started this relationship, Ben has always seemed fairly put together. She’s not used to something phasing him like this, even if it’s only the mildest of tantrums inflicted on an espresso machine. No matter what he says, she can tell that this event has been eating at him since the moment the invitation arrived in the mail. Why else would he have kept it, if he was so hell bent on _not_ attending?

She waits until he’s finished his barista duties and seated with breakfast before she attempts to pry a bit more. “So, have you volunteered with that law firm before? I heard they do tons of work with soup kitchens.”

“Rey.” He scoots the butter dish over to his side of the table and starts slathering his pancakes. “If you want to ask me something, then just ask.”

She sighs and pokes at her own stack with her fork. “Fine. How are you...affiliated with that firm? Does it have something to do with your past troubles with Snoke?”

“Yes and no.” 

Snorting, takes a sip of her absolutely perfect latte. Ben buys his beans from his neighbour four doors down, who roasts them in a storage unit on 93rd Street, and they’re perfect; fruity, rich, with just the tiniest hint of nuttiness. “Now who’s being cryptic?”

“It’s the truth. Lando Calrissian represented me in the Snoke case...but I also knew of them personally before all of that.”

“How so?”

He takes a sip of his own latte and grimaces. “My mother, Leia Organa, is one of the senior partners.”

Ah. Yes, that tracks. The unexplained trust fund, his connections, his preoccupation with keeping her in expensive clothing, it speaks to an upbringing facilitated by an accomplished, powerful mother. “Are you and your mother not close?” she wonders. 

“We’re not _not_ close. It’s more like– a lot of my childhood was spent at events like these, loitering in the corner by myself while the adults networked. Feeling awkward and antisocial in uncomfortable suits, it’s not a great time for a teenager. Now that I have the choice, I would rather not go.”

“Is the food good?” 

“Ha!” Finally, she’s able to coax a little smile out of him. “I knew it was a mistake, introducing you to burrata.”

“Because if the food’s good, we could always just...go. And eat.”

“ _We_ could go?” He slides the butter dish back over to her and raises a curious eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re invited.”

“So you’re saying you, the son of a senior partner, wouldn’t be allowed a plus one? I don’t buy it.”

Not that this is any of her business, but there’s something about the way he’s twitching in his seat that betrays his inner conflict about the whole fundraiser business. He _wants_ to go; at least part of him does, judging by the fact that the invitation was on his fridge and not thrown out, torn up, ingested, or otherwise destroyed. At the same time, he doesn’t seem to have the strength to choose to go himself, hence she’s convinced it’s her place to goad him, just a bit.

So she bats her eyelashes at him, scraping her knife against the butter and spreading it with a slowly intentional slide of her knife against the steaming pancake. His gaze flicks over to her and stays, his attention caught tenuously in her net. 

“How about I let you dress me up...really nice?”

His knife pauses halfway through his pancake. “Go on.”

“Like _really_ nice. Nicer than I’ve ever dressed up before.”

He’s catching on now, she can tell by the way he’s started to chew on his lip to mask his excitement. “Something designer?” he breathes, as if he can’t quite believe what’s happening right now. 

“Something really expensive. And flashy too, so people know how expensive it is.”

“Can you get your hair done? And nails? And makeup?” His whole face is flushed pink.

“I’ll get all of that. I’ll even get fully waxed if that’s what you–”

“No.” 

“Okay.”

“Not that.” 

“Okay.”

“But everything else.” With absolutely no air of subtlety whatsoever, he reaches down and adjusts himself in his pants. “The whole thing. I want you to look like a fucking goddess.”

“That is _not_ going to help my friends’ suspicions,” she muses.

“That I’m your sugar daddy?” Ben laughs. “Hey, can you pass me some more syrup?”

She hands him the glass bottle, then returns back to her own breakfast. “Well, can you blame them? From the outside, that’s totally what this looks like.”

“Except it’s been months, and we’re still together. I see you all the time. I’ve even hung out with your friends, on multiple occasions.” He takes a bite of pancake then leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Sugar daddies don’t do that.”

“Because you’re the expert?”

“I’m well read. I’ve done my research. Plus, I wanted to make sure that our relationship was right for us. You said it yourself; you want this to be an equal partnership with a relatively equal distribution of power. I don’t consider you my little girl, or my sugar baby, or my fucktoy...you’re my Rey. You’ve seen some shit and you’ve handled some shit, and now you deserve a fucking break, and that’s what I’m here for.”

She tilts her head to the side, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. “That’s a very ‘you’ way of putting it,” she says. “I love how you can be all philosophical and eloquent at school, but with me you’re so...blunt.”

“That’s just how I see it.” With a grunt, he resumes his breakfast, only pausing to interject: “I’m not your daddy. I’m just Ben.”

“You’re _my_ Ben,” Rey clarifies. 

“Right.”

“And you’re going to take me to this ball thing, right?”

Another grunt. “I guess. As long as you–”

“I’ll dress up for you.”

“And after?” His eyes glint, dark and dangerous.

“Hmmmm.” She takes another bite of breakfast, chewing thoughtfully. “And after...I guess we’ll see what you have planned.”

* * *

It’s not like _Pretty Woman_ , not that she would have expected it to be. He drops her off at the fancy mall downtown with one of his credit cards and explicit instructions to look as perfect as possible, so for her first stop she pops into one of those intimidatingly clean department stores where she’s certain the staff can tell she’s far too poor to be within a hundred feet of their wares. Turns out, the people working there are actually super helpful and, once armed with the context of ‘law firm fundraiser’ and ‘my partner’s mother’, they outfit her in an ivory silk dress that’s trimmed with a little cape around her shoulders. It’s got flowers on it as well, which makes Rey smile.

“It’s flirty while also being quite elegant,” the staff person explains as she parades in front of a bank of mirrors. “Formal enough to show that you’re taking it seriously, while still affording you some fun for your age.”

_Afford_ is an appropriate word, as the dress by itself costs more than several of her classes combined. Along with a pair of shoes, earrings, and a jaw-droppingly expensive stop at Sephora, the entire makeover is expensive enough to give her a minor heart attack. It’s weird; she always assumed that shopping without a thought of the cost would be enjoyable, but she finds that it kind of takes the fun out of things. No longer searching for the cutest outfit at the best price, she finds herself browsing listlessly through the mall, reliant on the opinions of employees for guidance.

It’s all for Ben though. If he wants her to be fancy, then by God she’ll be the fanciest she can be.

She gets her hair professionally done on the afternoon of the fundraiser. That’s another strange experience, full of smells and tools she’s never seen before, all for a final result that looks so effortless, it’s hard to imagine almost two hours of work went into it. For lack of a better example, she looks like a mermaid or a bikini model, with her normally straight, listless hair teased into glossy waves with just enough volume to bounce around her shoulders as she walks. The make-up is the same, a deceptively long process that renders her looking like she’s been Facetuned in real life, with perfectly flushed cheeks and just the right amount of cat eye. 

Luckily it’s a clear sunny day, so she doesn’t have to worry about her new look getting destroyed by rain on her way to Ben’s place. She lets herself in, dropping off her cardigan and purse on a hook by the door, and helps herself to some grapefruit juice in his fridge. It’s...so nice to be able to walk in and make herself at home, especially since her own accommodations are basically a shoebox bedroom and a minifridge she got on clearance. 

Once she finishes her drink, she puts the glass in the dishwasher like a good guest and then pads over to Ben’s bedroom. He’s laid out his suit and her dress on the bed, his tie a splash of cream on all black that compliments her outfit perfectly 

“I’ve left something for you on the bed,” he calls from the ensuite bathroom, where she can hear him shaving his face. The air smells of herby pine and damp from a recent shower. “It would mean a lot to me if you wore it.”

Her eyes scan the bed and land on a matte black box. It’s bigger than a jewellery box would be, and heavier as well, though not large enough to hold shoes or a purse. Confused, she undoes the velvet ribbon holding it closed and pries off the top.

“ _Oh_.” It’s a matching set of gorgeous, polished glass butt plugs, one ivory with red and black swirls, the other slightly larger and black, with a swirl of cream. Rey’s gaze flicks to their clothes, and back to the box. “Ben...these are gorgeous but– did you have them _custom made_?”

“Ha!” She hears the water run as he rinses out his razor, then the door creaks open and he emerges, freshly showered with only a towel around his waist. He looks _delicious_ , his hair lank and wet and curling slightly against his neck. “Of course I had them custom made. Only the best for my girl.”

“And for you as well.” She raises an eyebrow. They’ve talked about butt stuff, quite extensively actually, but this is the first time he’s ever brought it up as something for himself. Sure, he’s been all over her ass almost since the moment they decided to start their relationship, but the fact that _he_ wants to try a toy, with her, during a public event? 

She swallows, thickly. 

Ben cocks his head to the side. “Do you need any help putting on your outfit?” There’s a glint in his eye, the one that indicates he’s in the mood for a little extra something before the fundraiser starts. He looks at the box in her hands, then back at her face, gauging her reaction. “If you’re nervous, I can get into mine first.”

_That_ helps things along. Rey nods, struck mute by the sight of his cheeky grin as he drops his towel to the floor and strides over to the bed completely naked. She’s treated to an especially grand shot of his muscled ass as he bends over to retrieve their lube from one of his nightstands, and then he’s prowling across the bed towards her, holding the little bottle out to her like a cat presenting their owner with its prey. “Will you do the honours?”

“I–”

“I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t be nervous; you’ll do a great job.”

With a gentle hand, he pushes her to her knees as he clambers onto his on the bed, putting her right at eye level with his eager cock, already erect and swollen with need. She licks her lips and then darts out her tongue, tasting just the tip of him. He chuckles. “A bit more than that, sweetheart.”

“Oh?” She looks up at him with wide eyes. “How so?”

Two thick fingers hook under her chin, guiding her closer to his cock as his other hand grabs the black plug from its box. His thumb rolls down her lip and rubs up against her teeth, holding her still for a moment. “You can multitask, can’t you?”

She grapples for the bottle of lube, smearing a generous dab of it onto her fingers as she strokes her tongue down his shaft. The plush bedroom rug is soft under her legs, his scent heavy in her nostrils as she ventures to take him just a bit deeper into her mouth.

Another tug of fingers on her jaw. “What have I said? Don’t make yourself uncomfortable.”

“But– I want to be good for you,” she huffs, because she does. She wants to be the _best_ for him, better than anyone else could even imagine. She wants to ruin him for other people, so that he’ll have no choice but to stay with her forever. She wants to destroy him with pleasure so he’ll never be able to leave.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he murmurs. “Just for being you. You don’t need to choke yourself on my cock for me to know that.”

“But–”

“Be gentle to yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”

So she pulls back, assuaging her guilt with tiny licks and sucks interspersed with enveloping his length in her hot mouth until his eyelids flutter closed and he lets out a little moan. “Now just– _yes,_ just like that, now with your fingers.”

She’s a step ahead of him, her slicked-up index finger stroking along the soft skin of his perineum and swirling behind until she’s sliding up against his clenched ass. He lets out a hiss of approval, so she tentatively slips her fingertip inside and is rewarded by a low groan of pleasure. 

“Yes, perfect, so perfect, _fuck_.”

“I’ve never done this before,” she confesses, her lips flush against the head of his cock. “Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong, sir?”

“Of course,” he vows. “But for now, keep going.”

It’s true; she’s never fingered a guy in the ass before, much less used any sort of toy down there, so it’s with a very nervous hand that she slicks up the glass toy with lube as her other hand teases his hole open. “You don’t have to be super gentle with me,” Ben hums. “I finger myself all the time when I jerk off, so I’m used to it.”

She whimpers, a fresh coat of liquid arousal flooding between her legs, soaking her panties and most likely dripping onto his soft rug. With his words of encouragement, she brings the black plug up to his ass and eases it in. “Yessss,” he sighs, as his fingers gently work their way through her freshly styled hair. “Just slide it in like that.” There’s a bit of resistance, no doubt due to the awkwardness of his stance. He makes no move to lie down though, and instead guides her lips to his inner thigh, where she leaves a mostly-toothless bite.

“Are you ready for your turn?” He angles her head up to meet his heated stare, the plug lodged firmly up his ass. 

Rey nods. 

“Alright then. Strip, then up on the bed, face down,” he instructs. 

Squirming, she does as she’s told. Once she’s naked, she buries her face in his blankets, bare butt in the air, and waits for him to lube her up. She waits– but all she can hear is rustling fabric and the metallic sound of a zipper closing.

“S-sir?”

“Patience,” he says, the hint of a smile in his voice. “Don’t want to be underdressed for this.”

It’s only once he’s fully outfitted for the night that he grabs the bottle of lube from next to her and applies it to her quivering hole. She squeaks; the cold sending just the right amount of startling pleasure straight to her core, which is quickly tamed by the heat of his fingers against her. 

“This should be easy for me,” he muses. “After all, wasn’t I just in here a few nights ago?”

He waits for her strangled “ _yes_ _sir._ ”

“And how many fingers was that? More than one, I think.”

He slides one slick finger into her hole without any effort at all, and Rey’s knees buckle. 

“I-It was two, I think,” she pants into his bed. “S-sir.”

“Hmmmm. Only two, was it? We’ll have to try for more some other night. Unfortunately, we need to get going.”

Then there’s another quick shock of cold as the glass plug is pressed into her. Her body accommodates it easily, no match for his two thick fingers from before. Once it’s in, Rey flips herself onto her back and just stares at him: tall, broad, dressed to kill in a gorgeous expensive suit and perfectly styled hair. 

“Ready to go?” he rasps. His eyes are wild, contrasting beautifully with the precise manicure of his suit. She wonders whether people will know what they’ve been up to, what they’re hiding under their clothes. She wonders whether they’ll be able to recognize the arousal painted on Ben’s face like a scarlet letter. 

Even once she’s dressed, the silk sheath falling perfectly over flushed skin and no underwear, she still feels nude somehow, like the clothing only serves to accentuate how utterly lost she is in the way they are together, the sheer eroticism of watching him shift slightly in the backseat of their Uber as he gets used to sitting with the plug in. 

The venue is only a five minute drive from his apartment. It’s barely enough time to acclimate to the throbbing fullness in her ass before she’s whisked off to an ornately decorated event hall at an overpriced hotel. She gapes at the decor, lush green velvet curtains overlaid with twinkling lights and those trendy potted fig trees in every corner. It’s traditional enough for her to feel out of touch while also gilded in a way that indicates a lot of money was spent.

Blessedly, her outfit is just the right amount of fancy, right down to the red-soled shoes that she secretly thinks are tacky. She blends right in to the crowd of immaculately dressed professionals and politicians that are milling around the room and, for a moment, she feels a relaxing wave of relief that she doesn’t stick out like the struggling student she is. 

Only a moment though, because then Ben casually pats her ass. A tingle of _something_ bursts in her veins, a mixture of fullness and pleasure, shot through with the thrill of having a dirty little secret. She hides her shivers by grabbing a salmon puff from a passing tray and shoving it into her mouth as delicately as she can, just in time for Ben to grab her elbow and squeeze.

“My parents,” he mutters, tight lipped. He nods to the right at a quickly approaching older couple. The woman, presumably his mother, is immaculately dressed and coiffed, while the man appears to be wearing a well-worn leather jacket and jeans that have seen better days. 

The woman smiles warmly. “Ben,” she murmurs, her voice warm and a bit raspy with age. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw the RSVP.”

“Yeah, well–” Ben shrugs in an attempt to be casual, and his mom raises an eyebrow, amused. “Haven’t attended in years. Figured I’d made an appearance.”

“Hm.” His mother’s mouth curves into a small, secret smile before she turns to Rey. “And you must be the plus one.”

“Right.” Ben coughs. “This is Rey. Rey, this is my mother, Leia Organa.”

“Lovely.” Rey quickly (and hopefully discreetly) wipes her sweaty hand on the back of her dress and extends it for Leia to shake. The other woman gives her a little smile. “Thank you so much for convincing my son to leave his hidey-hole for a night and actually take the time to visit with his parents.”

“Oh, I, uh—“ There’s no good answer for that, so Rey bites her lip, remembering a bit too late that her mouth is currently lacquered in $75 lipstick. “You’re welcome?”

Ben snorts. “Way to make a great first impression, mother.”

“Way to get outcharmed by your date, son,” Leia replies. She turns back to Rey. “I commend you on tolerating his moods; they can be quite draining.”

“And she wonders why I haven’t attended in a while,” he murmurs in a stage whisper.

The older man holding Leia’s arm flashes Rey a crooked smile that’s identical to Ben’s. _Must be his father._

“Don’t let their bickering put you off, kid. They do this all the time, but deep down they love each other.”

“ _Way_ down,” Ben deadpans, then as an afterthought: “And this is my father, Han Solo.”

“A pleasure.”

Rey shakes his extended hand. “Likewise.”

“Well now that that’s done, I assume the two of you have some ‘networking’ to do?” Ben raises his eyebrows at his parents. “The funds aren’t going to raise themselves.”

“ _Ben,_ ” she hisses, but Han and Leia laugh at their son’s transparent annoyance.

“It’s okay. We know subtlety isn’t his strong suit.” Standing up on her very tiptoes, Leia tugs on her son’s sleeve until he begrudgingly leans over enough for her to peck him on the cheek. Satisfied, she rocks back onto her sensible yet tasteful heels and nods at Han. “Let’s let him be for now.”

Ben’s shoulders slouch with relief the moment they’re out of eyesight. “Fuck, I cannot express how awkward it is to talk to my parents while I’m this hard. I swear, they _knew_ it and that’s why they lingered.”

“Or they wanted to talk to their son that they apparently haven’t seen in a while?” Rey pats his ass and his eyes narrow, dangerously.

“Bored already? I can get a driver to drop you off at your place if you—“

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what you think I want.” She feels cheekier than normal, energized by his mother’s sass and the scent of expensive hors d’oeuvres wafting off of passing platters. “I’m sure that’s why you went through all the fuss of dressing me up and shoving a plug up my—“

Then Ben does something so malicious, so unbelievably _cruel_ that, hours later, she can’t quite believe he subjected her to it because of how painful it was. With a sly grin, he puts one hand, firm and purposeful, on her ass, letting his finger graze her crack through the thin silk as he raises his other hand to wave at someone behind her shoulder.

“Hey Gial! Long time, no see!”

That’s how it starts, hours of mind numbing, teeth clenchingly boring small talk with Gial Akbar, Nien Nunb, and a never ending parade of the most respected legislative lawyers at the firm, who are more than willing to wax poetic about forms, spreadsheets, and banal details about their careers, all while Ben’s finger traces lazily up and down the crack of her ass, pausing only to tap his fingertips against her cheeks. Jolts of pleasure steeped in her growing irritation make Rey’s face flush red and her heart race as she struggles to nod and smile at these kindly old men while her attention is focused on the slip of tempered glass stretching open her ass.

She’s two glasses of champagne and likely a whole platter of onion puffs into the evening before she’s able to pry Ben away from a dull discussion with his mother’s old university friend and into a dark corner of the hall that’s mostly obscured by a tall potted plant. With a shaking, clammy hand, she tugs him away from prying eyes and holds him close. “P-please,” she gasps into his shoulder, her hips writhing against him. She’s getting desperate; her cunt feels swollen and aching, begging to be filled. “Please, could we just go to the bathroom and–”

“Leave the party?” He cups her cheek and angles her face up so he can meet her quivering stare. “After you made such a fuss about attending? Now wouldn’t that be rude of us. Besides, my mother is still wanting a quality conversation and we can’t disappoint her.”

“But Ben, I’m– I’m going to–” She takes in a deep breath in an attempt to calm her chattering lips. “I’m _dripping_. I’m going to make a mess of this dress.”

His dark eyes glitter in the low light. “ _Good._ ”

Then, with a final pat on her ass, he’s whisked off to talk to another old family friend with her trailing behind him. This man, Lando Calrissian, is extremely affable and charming, full of jokes and stories about Ben’s childhood that almost distract her from the situation brewing under her skirt. Her... _discharge,_ for the lack of a better word, has started smearing around her inner thighs, making her unpleasantly awkward and squirmy, and that is without the addition of Ben’s wandering hands casually tapping her ass every minute or so, sending little shivery tendrils of pleasure up her back.

“..and so he came running out, naked as the day he was born, and I swear to God Leia almost had a fucking heart attack!” Lando’s face splits into a dazzling grin. Ben’s dad lets out a throaty chuckle and even Ben himself seems pretty amused. “I told her, that wasn’t the first bare butt I’d seen that day, and hopefully wouldn’t be the last.”

“Jesus, Lando.” Leia rolls her eyes. “Let the girl breathe a bit. No need to tell her how you’re a lech the first time she meets you.”

“Yeah, save that for Thanksgiving or something,” Han snorts, and their little group bursts into shared chuckles.

It’s close to the end of the night when Lando leaves them to say goodbye to some other attendees. Now alone again with the Solos, Rey is hyper-aware of how swollen and stuttery she is. Leia must think she’s an idiot with her stammered responses; the woman is a fucking attorny for God’s sake, wearing what looks like vintage Chanel and some gorgeous understated diamonds, and her son’s plus-one is a sweaty mess in a rumpled silk dress.

She can’t even get back at Ben for all of his sly brushes and gentle taps. Her hands are positively shaking from arousal, and so clammy she’s scared to unclasp them just in case she leaks sweat onto the gorgeous hall carpet. She’s about to excuse herself to the bathroom when Han claps Ben on the shoulder and bellows something about them going to the bar, leaving Rey and Leia alone in the corner. 

Even though she’s thought about it a thousand times (probably more if she’s being honest with herself), she’s never imagined her first substantial conversation with Ben’s mother happening while she’s dripping wet with a plug in her ass. Self-consciously, she swipes her hand over her butt, like she used to do in high school while she was on her period to make sure she hadn’t leaked on her pants, and thankfully she can’t feel anything on her dress. Nervous, she does it again to make it seem like she’s smoothing out some unseen wrinkles, then she clears her throat and asks, “What’s your favourite appetizer here?”

_Oh my god._

Literally the stupidest question. She could die. She might, if the pounding in her chest and weirdly tingly sensation in her arms is from a heart attack. 

But instead of berating her or scoffing, Ben’s mom laughs. “A woman after my own heart,” she admits. “Usually I only come to these things for the food as well. 

“Oh?” 

“Networking is not my strong suit.” She lowers her voice, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Believe it or not, I often let Han do the talking, though he’s about as hopeless as I am.”

“I would have assumed a lawyer would be excellent at small talk.” Rey’s gaze flits over to Ben and his father, where the older man seems to be acting out a time he was extremely intoxicated while his son tries to look embarrassed. 

“A lot of people think that. Turns out, polite conversation can be a lot harder than arguing a case. The courtroom has rules of governance, while in real life things are a lot messier. Speaking of messy–” Leia shrugs over at the bar. “–how is he?”

“He’s good,” Rey replies, reflexively. 

His mother isn’t fooled, facing her with a stone cold stare. “Good? Ben has never been _good_.”

Rey shrugs. “Sorry. Actually he’s been doing pretty well for the most part, aside from when he gets too busy and pushes himself too hard. He’s been working out more, and I’m trying to take him out with my friends though admittedly I’m not great at that either.”

“And he’s been kind to you? He treats you well?”

“Very well.”

“Hmmm. At least he remembers some things from me.”

Rey’s face flames at all of the ways Ben treats her well, and she prays he learned none of them from his mother. 

“By the way, it’s the blinis,” Leia stage-whispers as Ben approaches them with two flutes of champagne. “I’ve tried to make them at home countless times, but I am a terrible cook.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Ben passes his mother a glass and offers the remaining one to Rey. “Her cooking isn’t just terrible, it’s a threat to public safety.”

“I’m not much better,” Rey says. “Ben’s had my cooking, if you could even call it that.”

He laughs. “It was the best slightly burnt hot dog I’ve ever had, though how you managed to burn it while boiling it, I’ll never figure out.”

“Now that’s talent.” Han sidles up next to Leia with two more glasses of champagne. Passing one to Ben, he raises his own flute. “A toast. To another successful night of brown nosing.”

His wife raises her glass. “To blinis.”

Ben raises his own. “To the future.”

They leave soon after, hugging Han and Leia goodbye as the caterers start packing up around them. “You’re absolutely lovely,” Leia whispers into Rey’s ear. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“Same,” Rey chokes back, soaking up the motherly love as much as she can. 

Han pats her shoulder awkwardly. “She’s a good kid,” he rasps to Ben. “Make sure you hold on to her.”

The air outside is crisp, stars barely visible against the glittering city skyline. Reflexively, Ben shrugs out of his coat and plops it onto her shoulders, then pulls out his phone to check the status of their Uber as Rey shivers next to him. Finally alone with him, she’s able to fully focus on how keyed up she is, how she’s aching to be touched but also jittery like an exposed nerve.

“I’m not drunk,” she informs him as their ride arrives. “Just so you know.”

He smiles. “I’m not going to fuck you in an Uber.”

She sighs. “You can be so literal sometimes. I’m not asking you to fuck me, just—“

“I’m not fingering you either.”

“Bennnnnn.” She’s not normally a brat, in fact she’s usually terrible at it, far too self conscious and practical to whine about something as trivial as getting off, but there’s something about tonight, about being dressed in designer clothing and painted like the Mona Lisa, that makes her feel like being a pain.

Because she _deserves_ it.

“But I’ve been so good,” she tries to reason, pitching her voice lower as they duck into the car. “So good. Even as you were talking to your mother’s insanely dry colleagues.”

“I hardly think Dr. Akbar could be considered dry after seeing how much he spits.”

“That’s not what I meant, but—“

“Rey.” 

“You don’t even have to finger me,” she hisses close to his ear. “I bet I could come from just brushing up against you, like this.”

She moves to slide her thigh against his, and he backs away, sitting straight backed in his own seat.

“No.”

“No?” Her anger spikes, white hot and transcendent. “What do you mean _no_?”

“I mean no.” He flashes the driver a bright grin that looks so much like his father’s, and hums through his teeth, “It would be rude. And put on your seat belt.”

She’s sure she’s left a wet spot on the car seat by the time they make it back to his place. At least it feels that way when the cold night air hits the back of her dress and she shivers, clutching his jacket tight around her shoulders. Ben makes no move to jump her in the hall and takes his time methodically selecting his key from the ring. He slips off his shoes at the door and pads across to the kitchen in sock feet, opening a cupboard and retrieving two glasses, which he fills with cold water from the fridge. He places one on the counter and drinks the other.

Dutifully, Rey pulls off her heels and walks over to drink her water. He’s fastidious about keeping her hydrated, especially when she’s been drinking, and she begrudgingly appreciates it.

The moon peeks through clouds and casts beams of light and shadows across Ben’s face. “You look beautiful,” he muses. “The most beautiful person there, and I got to bring you home tonight.”

“You bring me home every night,” she teases.

“That I do. But what can I say, I like it when other people see you the way I do.” He reaches over to brush a stray hair behind her ear, the exact way they do it in the movies. “All dressed up... it’s so special.” His eyes sparkle. “And also knowing what lies beneath.”

“About that.” Rey shimmies up next to him. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

“Hmmm, maybe.” He smiles, lacing his fingers with hers to tug her into his bedroom.

_Finally._ She has no illusions about getting off right away; after all, tonight was mostly for him. Because of this, she dutifully kneels down oh his rug when he turns his back to her to deposit his watch on a dresser. 

He grins when he turns back to her and finds her ready and waiting for him. “Well, what do we have here?”

“I’m ready,” she insists.

“Oh, are you?” He takes a step forward, his crotch brushing up against the highlighted tip of her nose. “Show me.”

With trembling fingers, she unzips his fly, peeling away the black silk of his pants to expose his dick, bare and flushed with anticipation. She pulls her hair back and licks her lips, but before she can get to work he stops her with a soft, “Easy.”

She’s almost jumping out of her skin, she’s so eager to get going. “S-sorry? Did I do something wrong?”

“Just–” He pauses, hums to himself for a second, then thrusts his hips forward just a bit, enough that the swollen head of his cock breeches her lips to rest on her tongue. “Just wait a minute.”

Rey squirms, her hands resting patiently on her thighs, and she _waits._ She waits as he checks his phone, his brow furrowing at a message. She waits as he slowly, methodically undoes his tie and shrugs off his jacket. She waits, frustrated, _dripping_ , as he pops each button of his shirt, the pearlescent edges sliding against their respective buttonholes with a hint of delicious friction. He’s down to his undershirt and boxers, his pants pooling around his feet, when she finally lets out a low whine of frustration that’s mostly muffled by his thick length in her mouth. 

It’s loud enough. His hands pause at the hem of his cotton tank and he flicks her an unimpressed stare. “Excuse me?”

She can’t respond, not with his dick in her mouth, so she tries to channel her feelings into a glare. She’s writhing on her knees, and her dress must be ruined by now. 

“Oh? Am I boring you?” He makes a show of peeling the pristine cotton of his undershirt from his skin, exposing the planes of his muscles and the slight softness of his belly, just enough fat over his abs to make him cozy to cuddle at night. She loves it all, loves how strong he is but also how comfortable his body makes her, except of course when his cock is stretching her jaw to the brink of discomfort. 

It’s like he knows the moment it crosses over into agony, because his movements speed up. He runs his fingers through her hair without pulling, content to scrape his nails against her scalp until she’s shivering with pleasure. He guides her with gentle words and copious encouragement, easing her off his dick then urging her back on once he’s back from the cusp of a climax. 

She can feel him, thick and swollen and throbbing with the need to release, so she swirls her tongue around the head of him, reaching under to press gently at the smooth plug in his ass, and then all of sudden he’s grasping tightly at the base of his dick, panting and moaning, a small bead of pre-cum oozing onto her lips.

“Augh, I– oh _fuck,_ Rey.”

“What happened?”

His thighs are shaking, and he’s still gripping his flushed cock as he reaches his other hand out to steady himself against the wall. “I wanted– I wanted to see if I could stop it right before...wanted to see what it would feel like.”

Leaning back on her heels, she gives him a cheeky little grin. “And what did it feel like?”

“Like I was coming, only just a bit less intense.” 

“So...you could come again? Theoretically?” Her heart skips a beat.

“That’s the idea.”

So she grips his thighs with her hands and resumes working at his cock, her tongue laving over the length of him as he pants above her. The constant edging has worn his resolve threadbare; he needs only a few minutes until he pulls her off with a cry and anoints her with hot ropes of cum on her face, dress, and especially her hair. 

“ _F-fuck_ Rey, oh my god.” He’s shaking, his teeth chattering behind bitten lips. His body jolts again, his dick spraying another few strands of cum over the cream silk of her bodice. Rey smiles back at him and leans forward to clean him off with gentle licks, causing him to twitch with the lightest touch. 

“Did I do well?,” she coos. “Did I make you ha–?”

Before she can react, he’s on his knees as well, pressing his lips to hers as his hands smear his spend over her hair and down her chin. “M’sorry,” he mumbles into her mouth. “Lemme just–” then his _tongue_ is on her cheek, hot and wet, laving up the trails of his cum until there’s nothing left on her skin, his mouth moving back to hers and licking his salty bitterness into hers. She groans; it’s not what she expected it, but it’s weirdly hot to taste his spend from his own lips, so much so that she’s practically shaking with need when he pulls away.

“What do you need?” His forehead drops to press against hers. 

“I just– I– make me feel good, _please sir_ ,” she whimpers. 

“Of course,” he breathes, and then before she can say another word he’s got her on her back, her dress dragging against the carpet as he hikes her thighs up to his shoulders and buries his head between her legs. For a moment she feels weightless, and then his tongue delves into her, hot and thick and wet, and she’s brought down to earth screaming, her clit burning with the sudden sensations, the onslaught of his mouth and his hands gripping her in place. He eats her out like a starving man, sending pulses of pleasure up her spine to tingle at the base of her neck, where a rumbling orgasm is building.

He mutters something into her pussy, and she groans. “W-what?” she stammers.

A chuckle bubbles up from his chest. “You left the plug in my ass.” He emphasizes his words by wiggling the smooth glass still lodged in her.

Her cheeks burn. “I...I’m sorry.” A zap of need rips through her. She wants to squirm but she _needs_ to be still, perched up on his shoulders so precariously. 

He sighs. “I don’t know if I can let that go, Rey.” 

She knows he’s kidding. Playing her like a kitten with a piece of string, but the mere suggestion that he might leave her here, raw and throbbing and half-sick with want wrenches a sob from her throat. “Please Ben, I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise–”

Dragging fingers hike her dress further up her hips until it crumples around her waist. His tongue, his hot, wet, wicked, talented tongue, devours her until she throws her head back and whines, her orgasm seizing her body and making her vision spot. 

But he’s not finished. Depositing her on his bed, he has her on her front, his thick fingers prying the plug from her ass and replacing it with his fingers. She comes with his duvet between her teeth, the scent of him clean and warm and sleepy almost smothering in its intensity. Then it’s him on his belly, coaxing her with sweet words to pull out his own plug using only her lips, rewarding her with a climax that coats his hand in her juices. 

Her next orgasm comes courtesy of his dick, thick and hot in her pussy as he bounces her on his lap. The next from his fingers, delving through the mess of her folds to thumb at her clit until she sobs.

She knows it’s over when he finally pulls off of her, when the heat of his body retreats enough to let the moisture cool on her skin. She must be a sight to see, covered in spit, cum, smeared makeup, hairspray, and sweat, all caking her body like a second skin. It’s dirty and disgusting; it’s a mess, she’s a _mess._

But then Ben sits back on his haunches and looks at her, at the unraveled disaster of ruined silk yanked up around finger-bruised hips, at her matted curls and tear streaked face.

“Beautiful.”

Her vision blurs. She’s vaguely aware of his muscled arms lifting her off of the bed and carrying her to the ensuite. Fingers deftly peel the stained dress from her body and toss it to the side, along with the sticky black pins from her hair and finally her bra. Finally naked before him, she feels used and dirty and so, so loved.

The bathwater is perfect, laced with jasmine and lavender. She sinks into the tub with a sigh, her muscles weeping with relief as epsom salts soothe the sores on her skin and blisters on her feet. Strong hands lower her head into the bathwater to rinse her hair then effortlessly guide her out and begin to painlessly tease out tangles with an oiled comb. A honey scented mask is applied to her face once it’s scrubbed free of makeup and she’s left to soak by herself as soft music streams through the bathroom’s speakers.

An hour or a minute or a day later, he pulls her from the bath and wraps her in a fluffy robe. Clean sheets and lit candles welcome her to the bed, where she sinks into the mattress and falls into a deep sleep. 

She only wakes briefly to Ben, freshly showered and slipping between the sheets to spoon her, a whispered “ _thank you”_ teasing the shell of her ear.


End file.
